


Quetzal, Whatever That Means

by misato



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Board Games, Frottage, Getting Together, Glasses, M/M, Scrabble, kevin has glasses, the glasses arent even important but i wanted to write my boy kevin with glasses, to be more specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: “Why have I never seen you wear glasses before, Elder Price?” Connor says, and his voice comes out higher than normal.“I just need them for reading,” Kevin grins sheepishly. “Arnold says they make me look like Clark Kent.”





	Quetzal, Whatever That Means

**Author's Note:**

> the title is shit ik

Connor’s looking for someone to play Scrabble with; most of the elders seem to be outside with the villager kids playing a makeshift game of soccer. Connor never was that athletic outside of dancing, but he still sort of regrets not trying to join in. The villagers still see him as the uptight one of their group, which is funny, considering the way Kevin acted when he first got to Uganda.

Kevin, while kind of competitive when it comes to board games, is a worthy Scrabble opponent in Connor’s eyes, and so he heads down the hall to where Kevin’s room is.

He doesn’t knock before entering.

It’s a mistake.

Kevin’s lounging on the bed, tie loose around his neck and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, leafing through The Book of Arnold. But that’s not the worst of it.

He’s wearing glasses.

Connor clears his throat, and Kevin’s hands fly to his face, fumbling for the glasses before tucking them behind his back.

“Why have I never seen you wear glasses before, Elder Price?” Connor says, and his voice comes out higher than normal.

“I just need them for reading,” Kevin grins sheepishly. “Arnold says they make me look like Clark Kent.”

And Connor has no idea who that is, but he nods anyway.

“Do you want to play Scrabble?”

Kevin closes his book without marking his place.

“You’re on.”

They head to the kitchen table, where Connor already has the board set up.

They sit down. Kevin has put the glasses back on, and Connor’s having a difficult time looking him in the face.

“I can start,” Connor says, and makes a complicated word that Kevin furrows his eyebrows at in disgust.

“What does that even mean?”

“Quetzal?” Connor asks innocently. “It’s a bird.”

“It is  _ not _ ,” Kevin whines, but then he looks at his letters and begins grinning devilishly.

Connor usually wouldn’t choose that adjective to describe Kevin Price, but then the man in question picks up two tiles and spells out the word “gay” on the board.

“Oh my gosh, Kevin,” Connor says.

“It means happy,” Kevin informs him, straightening his glasses.

He sounds smug, but his shy smile gives away his nervousness.

Connor nearly melts in his chair.

They keep playing, making a web of both overly fancy words (Connor) and words that make them both struggle not to laugh (Kevin). 

When Connor finally wins the game, Kevin admits defeat, but he smiles anyway.

“Listen, Connor. I need to tell you something, because I feel bad keeping it from you. I’m-” Kevin starts, but then Arnold bursts in the door and makes his way to the kitchen, cheering.

Kevin reaches for his glasses and tucks them into his pocket before turning and grinning at his friend.

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

“We won! I finally beat Nabu...Nab...well...my girlfriend at soccer! That one kid was freakin’ amazing, right Poptarts?”

The other Elder agrees, and no one seems to notice when Connor slips out of the room, leaving their conversation unfinished and the Scrabble board still on the table.

-

Connor brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, but instead of going into his room, he heads to the end of the hall, where Kevin sleeps, and knocks on the door.

Kevin answers it in nothing but boxers and a hastily wrapped blanket, glasses askew on his face.

“Hey,” Connor breathes, and, realizing how flushed his face must be, covers his mouth with his hand nervously. “I wanted to talk to you about-”

“Yeah,” Kevin finishes. “Yeah, that.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, feeling stupid and trying not to let his eyes wander. “Yes.”

“Come in,” Kevin says, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Okay,” Connor says, looking around the room as he enters before carefully closing the door behind them.

“Arnold’s not here,” Kevin explains, and Connor nods.

“Why-” Connor starts, at the same time as Kevin says “I think-”

“You first,” Kevin says, a little shy, and Connor nods.

“Why don’t you wear your glasses in public?”

The question feels kind of stupid when he says it out loud.

“I think I look kinda dorky in them,” Kevin says. “Don’t you?”

“No,” Connor says, before he can stop himself. “They’re nice.”

Kevin blushes.

“I guess I’ll say my thing, then.”

Connor nods. Kevin wets his lips, not meeting Connor’s eyes.

“I think I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Connor chokes out, and that’s not what he was expecting, not at all.

He didn’t know what he thought Kevin would say.

“Yeah,” Kevin says shortly, and he sits on the bed.

He’s mostly not wearing clothes (Connor can’t blame him; the heat is insufferable, even at night), and he wraps his arms around his frame rather awkwardly.

“I just thought I should tell you,” Kevin says. “I felt guilty, lying about not having gay thoughts.”

“When…” Connor swallows, sitting on the bed. “When did they start?”

Kevin chuckles.

“Since I was a kid? I don’t know. You’re not the first guy I’ve liked, y’know.”

“Wait,” Connor struggles to put together the pieces. “Me? You like me?”

He feels like he sounds like a blushing sixth grade girl, but Kevin just gives him a soft smile, then ducks his head.

“I would’ve thought it was obvious, Con,” Kevin says, looking at him from over his glasses.

Connor used to have thoughts of leaning in and kissing boys like Steve Blade out of nowhere; they’d rush into his mind whenever he got too close, or whenever he was feeling particularly lonely. He longed for hastily held hands, barely brushing thighs, and sometimes worse things; things he’d pray about after waking up aching from sinful dreams. 

He learned to turn them off. Mostly.

The thing is, he’s having them again.

“Kevin,” Connor says. “Did you try to come out to me by playing the word “gay” in Scrabble?”

“I mean,” Kevin says. “I get points for creativity, right?”

“I’m so oblivious,” Connor sighs. “Do you know how I came out to my parents?”

“No,” Kevin says, his voice small. “Tell me.”

“I was ten years old. I had a crush on my friend Steve. We were only in fifth grade, but I liked him a lot. He was the first guy I’d ever  _ liked  _ like that, y’know?” Connor pauses. “One day I told my mom that I was going to marry him when I was older. It was an innocent thing, you know. Kids say innocent, dumb things. But I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was horrified, Kevin. She told me to never say that kind of thing again, especially not in front of my father. And I never did. I turned it off, or at least, I tried to. Right now, I don’t think I’m doing such a good job of that.” He laughs a little, sounding bitter.

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Kevin says. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “I probably shouldn’t have…”

“No,” Kevin says. “No, it’s okay.”

Connor’s crying a little bit, and Kevin touches his shoulder.

Connor flinches, a full-body tremble that makes Kevin back off.

“Sorry,” Kevin whispers, and Connor shakes his head.

“Kevin, can we just...can we…” He’s struggling to get the words out. “Can we cuddle, or something?”

“Or something?” Kevin teases, but he pulls Connor close on the bed, wrapping his arms around him.

They’re face-to-face, foreheads bumping together: a tentative knock on a closet door that both of them are a little afraid to open.

Connor lets his eyes drop, wandering over Kevin’s body, mapping out freckles and noticing the places where his suntanned skin fades into creamy white. He can see the trail of hair that leads from his lower abdomen into the depths of his boxers, and he swallows. Connor himself is still fully dressed, but he let his hands skim Kevin’s waist.

Kevin shivers.

“Can we kiss?” Kevin says. “I want to kiss you, Connor, please.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Connor feels himself say before tentatively pressing their lips together.

It’s a little messy, and the tear tracks are still wet on his face, but it’s nice, for a first kiss.

They pull away, and Kevin reaches for his glasses, folding them and reaching to put them on the bedside table.

“No,” Connor says, quickly, and Kevin pauses, eyebrows twitching in the way they do when he’s confused.

“What?”

“Leave them on,” he says.

“Why?” Kevin says, and then his lips twitch. “Do you think it’s sexy or something?”

“S-sexy?” Connor says, his voice barely a squeak. “Oh, gosh.”

Kevin slides the glasses on and kisses the space beneath Connor’s jaw, working down over his neck.

“You heard me,” Kevin says, breath puffing hot again his skin. “Do you?

“Yes,” Connor exhales. “Yes, Kevin.”

Kevin bites at his collarbone, and Connor gasps, and he suddenly doesn’t know where to put his hands, so they move to cup Kevin's ass.

“ _ He _ llo,” Kevin says, and Connor flushes pink, moving his hands and Kevin laughs, shaking his head.

“If you’re ready, we can…” Kevin raises his eyebrows, and Connor smiles, looking down.

“I’d like that,” Connor says, and Kevin goes for Connor’s belt buckle, looking him in the eyes first to make sure it’s okay.

The belt is tossed on the floor and soon, so are the dress pants, and soon Connor’s lying there in nothing but boxer briefs and a half-undone dress shirt, the tie loose around his neck.

“So you stopped with the Mormon underwear thing too?” Kevin says, and Connor nods, looking away.

“It’s hot in Uganda.”

“Sure is,” Kevin says, dropping his gaze deliberately to Connor’s crotch.

“Shut up,” Connor whispers, and Kevin pulls him close, grinding their erections together through what seems like way too many layers of fabric.

“Off,” Kevin mutters, and Connor tugs his underwear over his thighs, revealing his hard cock. “Oh, gosh, that’s-” He stops.

“That’s what?” Connor asks. 

“Sexy,” Kevin whispers, and takes out his cock, stroking it slowly. 

“Can I touch you?” Connor manages, nervously. 

Kevin’s eyes have slipped shut.

“Please,” he murmurs, easing into the warm touch of Connor’s fingers.

Kevin takes both of their cocks and strokes them in unison, making Connor gasp out.

“I probably won’t last very long,” he says, his hips twitching as Kevin thumbs his head.

“That’s okay,” Kevin says, pushing up his glasses with one hand; they’ve slid down his nose. “I want you to feel good.”

“Oh,” Connor moans, and then, “ _ Oh _ ,” and then he’s spilling over both their cocks and onto the sheets.

When he opens his eyes again, Kevin’s climaxed too, to his relief.

“That was...nice,” Connor breathes.

“If by nice, you mean sexy,” Kevin says, using his new favorite word, “then you are absolutely correct.”

Connor shoves him, and Kevin shoves him back, and they kiss a little more, and fall asleep. They don’t realize the sheets are a mess until the next morning.

-

“Kevin, what do you want for breakfast?” Arnold flings the door wide open and then cowers in shock. 

Kevin wakes up slowly. He’s slept in his glasses, and he pushes his hair back from his face, propping himself up on one arm. Connor is practically wrapped around him, but he’s still asleep.

“What was that?” he says through a yawn.

“Um,” Arnold practically squeals the word. “I think I’ll come back later.”

The sound of the door slamming behind him is still not enough to wake Connor.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @theatreboys


End file.
